He's at Hogwarts
by ChoCedric
Summary: "He's at Hogwarts," Sirius whispered to the cold, barren cell. For the first time in twelve years, he felt truly alive. His hands clenched into fists, energy pounded through his veins, and his eyes adopted a manic gleam. "He's at Hogwarts."


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

He's at Hogwarts

By: ChoCedric

"Wake up, Prongs! Please! C'mon, Prongs, please wake up! This isn't funny! Stop looking at me like that and just WAKE UP!"

Sirius Black woke with a start, his surroundings coming back into focus. Here he was, in the same dank, dark prison cell he had been in for the past twelve bitter, miserable years. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up on his small cot, sighing a heavy, grief-stricken sigh.

Every night when Sirius fell asleep, he saw James's cold, limp, lifeless body over and over again. His eyes, which had always held love, mischief, and honesty, were now staring unseeingly at Sirius. And every single night without fail, Sirius screamed, begged, pleaded, howled for his best mate to wake up. But James never did.

It was sickening that after all the fun and mischief they'd gotten up to in their time together, this was the only way he could now remember his best friend. The dementors would never let him remember him full of life and sparkle. It was the same with Lily too; God bless her, she'd still had tear tracks on her cheeks when Sirius had found her. Her beautiful emerald eyes were no longer shining; instead, they stared right through Sirius just like James's had done.

Yes, Sirius Black was in the worst place imaginable, a place worse than Hell. He was in Azkaban Prison. And he had been there for the past twelve years, although he could hardly measure time anymore. Even though he still made the transformation into his Animagus form to stop his emotions from being so complex, he was almost ready to give up.

But there was one thing, one spark, that kept him holding on. Even through the nightmares, the torment, the agony that the dementors made him suffer, one thought always dominated his mind. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. I'm innocent. And he vowed to himself that one day he would get out of this place, one day he would reunite with Lily and James's son, take him into his arms, and take care of him like he'd always deserved.

He knew that the Dursleys had never loved the boy. The way Lily used to talk about Petunia and her walrus of a husband, he knew they weren't very nice people at all. Merlin, that's the understatement of the century, he thought to himself. They were probably the most horrible people on the planet, barring Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He constantly beat himself up for going after Peter and letting Hagrid take Harry away.

But that thirst for revenge was still pumping through Sirius's veins even now. He wanted to grab that rat, tear him limb from traitorous limb, hear him squeak and beg until he was nothing but a pile of skin and bones. Oh, if only he could get his hands on that filthy vermin!

Suddenly, Sirius heard footsteps coming down the hall. He knew it wasn't a dementor, because dementors didn't have footsteps. He shivered, the constant cold getting to him as the footsteps grew louder and louder. Who would want to visit this dump? Sirius thought venomously.

The man stopped outside Sirius's cell. He had a lime green bowler hat on his head and a newspaper, The Daily Prophet, in his hands. Sirius recognized him immediately – he was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic.

"Black," Fudge said curtly, perturbed by the way Sirius was looking at him, maintaining perfect eye contact.

"Hullo, Minister," said Sirius, taking immense pleasure at the fear on Fudge's face. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thanks, Black." Fudge said with trepidation.

"Excuse me, but are you finished with that paper?" Sirius asked, still not looking away from Fudge. "I miss doing the crosswords." His face split into a twisted smile as Fudge's face turned pale.

"Uh ... yeah ... here you go," muttered Fudge, shoving it through the bars to Sirius and then walking away as quickly as possible.

Sirius smirked, and then he settled on his cot to look at the paper. One headline caught his eye; it was about the Weasley family. Arthur Weasley had apparently won some money for himself and his family, and they were spending a month in Egypt.

But that wasn't what had Sirius so fascinated, so riveted. For there, sitting on the youngest boy's shoulder, was a rat. A stupid, fat, cowardly, traitorous, repulsive little rat.

Peter Pettigrew.

He scanned the rest of the article in haste, hardly being able to believe his eyes. For the first time in twelve years, he felt truly, truly alive. His hands balled into fists, energy pounded through his veins, and his eyes adopted a manic gleam. He ripped the article out of the paper, holding it to his chest as though it were a lifeline. And to Sirius Black, it was. It was one of the only things keeping him anchored to sanity. He focused on the thought of I'm innocent, I'm innocent, I'm innocent once again, the words repeating like a mantra within his mind.

Peter Pettigrew was going to the same place that his precious godson, Harry, was going back to in a few months. And Sirius knew what he had to do. If it was the last thing he did, he would catch Peter. He wasn't going to see another cold, lifeless body, with messy hair and vacant eyes, this time emerald green. He was going to protect Harry. He was going to stop being the failure of a godfather he had been for the past twelve years. He would avenge his best friend, and maybe, someday, he'd learn to forgive himself for the actions that caused his and Lily's death. Or maybe I'll never forgive myself, he thought pesemistically. But now, I don't care. I'm going to go and protect my godson.

"He's at Hogwarts," he whispered to the cold, empty cell. "He's at Hogwarts. I will go. I will find a way to catch Peter. He's at Hogwarts ... he's at Hogwarts."


End file.
